We Races Of Men
by Coru
Summary: xover with Lois and Clark. What if someone had managed to lay their hands on a bit of 'Kryptonian' DNA when they were forming the Key?
1. Things That Were

Author's Note: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any associated characters and locations. I do not own Superman/Clark Kent or any associated characters and locations. They belong to Joss Whedon and DC Comics, respectively.

This story is using more-or-less the Lois and Clark version of Superman, though I may alter the timeline as I see fit. Right now all you need to know is that it's mid season 1, but moved forward to 2008.

* * *

_We Races of Men_

Being kidnapped was not something that anyone exactly _expect _when stepping out of his or her apartment and heading to work...but for some, it does tend to be a less extraordinary experience then it would be for others. _Daily Planet_ reporter Lois Lane was kidnapped on what seemed to be an almost weekly basis...but for once, the person being held in an empty Metropolis warehouse was a different dark-haired young journalist.

The woman in question was sulking. She was missing a staff meeting for this nonsense and she did not appreciate it. She knew she would have hell to pay when she was rescued – as she was certain she would be – and her sister would use it as yet another reason that Metropolis was too dangerous to live in. The fact that she had been kidnapped on a much more regular basis when she lived at home than she had in college would be irrelevant in the face of her guardian's 'worried parent mode'.

After graduating from a private high school in Scotland, Dawn Summers had been accepted to several prestigious universities around the world. She'd even been given a scholarship at Oxford – though she had the distinct feeling that _that_ had been arranged by her sister's 'connections', and had thus been determined not to accept. There had been quite an outcry when she informed her little family that she would not only be moving back to America, but that she would be living in 'the big city' and attending Metropolis University.

Everyone came up with their own list of arguments preventing the youngest 'Scooby' from leaving their gang, from the shocked confusion of Andrew-the-resident-nerd, "but...it'll be so BORING!" to the quiet sadness of Willow-the-resident-badass-Wiccan, "you know we'll miss you an awful lot Dawnie," but she quite calmly ignored every single one of them with the stubborn determination that becomes ingrained into any well-trained younger sibling. "It's time for me to have my own life based on what _I_ can do," she replied firmly.

And, in her opinion, she had done so. She had a decent – though not stellar – GPA and had done exceedingly well at the university's newspaper. The MetroPulse was an excellent paper, considering that it was run entirely by students and largely focused on university matters. She had started out compiling the crime log, and slowly worked her way up to writing a weekly opinion column. She wasn't the top reporter, but she did occasionally amaze her co-workers with her research. The fact that every source was verified and every sentence cited seemed to boggle their minds, but after spending her teenage years in a house where incorrect information led to death, she'd learned to pay attention to research.

Dawn pouted as she realized that she would never be able to use her current situation in a non-fiction piece...people still denied that the supernatural existed – which amazed her, in the city known world over as the home of Superman. She thought she might use it in the other half of her double-major – creative writing. If something interesting enough happened anyway, the damsel in distress being saved by the noble hero – or heroine – had only been entertaining the first five hundred times it was written.

"I am sorry for the inconvenience," a nervous-looking older man paced around her. "But you have to understand, it's for your own good."

"Yada yada, etc., etc., and you're gonna get your ass kicked, I hope you know," she grumbled. "When my sister gets here -"

"Sister?" He shook his head. "I don't know – well, regardless I _must_ finish these tests and determine...just hold still." He held a large syringe in his hand and she tried not to show her panic as he took a a large sample of her blood. "If I'm right, it could be a great breakthrough for you."

"And now you're gonna get your ass kicked _super hard_. What the hell are you doing?"

"Well, Ms...Summers is it?" He didn't wait for acknowledgment, dropping a tiny bit of her blood onto a small slide. "I am examining your blood."

"Fooooor?" She dragged out the word sarcastically. "Are you checking to make sure I don't have HIV before you sell me into slavery or something?"

"No," he replied absently, looking through his microscope. "I'm looking for a unique pattern that should be visible in your cells...assuming of course, that you are the person I believe you are and that the Monks of Dagon did as I suggested they should."

Dawn didn't exactly have a mirror handy, but she was fairly sure that she paled at his words. "The...Monks of Dagon?" she whispered hoarsely. "What do you know about them?"

"I know that they guarded the Key and formed it into a person," he adjusted a few things – intensified the light and looked again. He laughed triumphantly. "And you're her!"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, no I'm not. I'm just a simple college student and you need to let me go!"

"Simple college student who believes her sister will save her from a kidnapper? No, you're the Slayer's Key." He smiled, holding a small green rock close to her face. "No reaction, lovely. You see, I 'know someone who knows someone' as it were, and it was brought to my attention that Glorificus would be attempting to destroy the world. That would hardly have been helpful to my research...and so, when the opportunity to donate to the project came about, I did so."

"Donate? Donate how?"

"Well my dear," she wasn't sure if she liked that he was paying more attention to her now or not. He set the vial aside and unlocked the brakes of the wheelchair she was strapped to. "I was – at the time – involved in a certain..._nonexistent_ part of the US government. Within that place that wasn't, there were _unique_ genetic samples from a space craft. Though I don't pretend to know the details of human building, I did arrange for the Monks to obtain a bit, for use in the process you see."

"I'm part _alien_?" Dawn hissed.

"Oh, indeed. Now, it is my professional opinion that the properties which are so envious in our alien friend were generated by the difference in radiation between our planet and his. I believe that exposure to a similar radiation would, to put it simply, activate yours."

"That's not putting it simply what the hell are you talking about?" Dawn shifted angrily as she was pushed into a roughly VW beetle-sized silver cone. "What alien friend?"

"Oh did I forget?" He smiled as he began to close the door. "I mean Superman of course."


	2. Things That Had Been

Dawn ran her fingers over her hair one last time and took a deep breath. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous – well, no, she knew exactly why, but she knew she had no choice but to relax. She had landed exactly one pass to a party at Lex Luthor's home, the only other ticket given to the paper being held firmly in the hand of one Jesse Shaw, editor-in-chief of the MetroPulse. He had invited her for three reasons, as he informed her.

"You're observant as hell, so you might notice something I don't. Second, I refuse to let you sit at home pouting over a tub of mint chocolate chip for one more night. And third, the invitation told me to." He'd given her a little grin and a hug after that – out of sight of the other members of the press, of course. It wouldn't do for Jesse to get a reputation for favoring one reporter over another, even if he was the 'Will to her Grace', as he put it, that was only outside of the newsroom. Inside, she was just another sophomore, she was allowed to have an opinion – which the freshmen were not – but wasn't given the 'right to be heard', as it were, anywhere other than her weekly column.

She admired herself in the mirror, her long hair had been pinned up in an elegant chignon, and she was finally utilizing a slinky black dress she'd stolen from Buffy's closet over a year ago. A bitter little voice pointed out the reason she'd initially 'borrowed' the dress, but she stubbornly pushed it out of her mind. Former boyfriends, no matter how determined to remain in her life, deserved no attention when she was getting ready for a party at the home of one of the richest men in the world.

She felt a tingle of excitement race up her spine as she contemplated not only meeting Lex Luthor, but that so many of her journalistic heroes were likely to be there. Mr. Luthor had given a pair of tickets to every newspaper in town and sold the rest for charity for several thousand dollars apiece. It was looking to be one of the largest charity events in years – and she would be in attendance.

A series of loud knocks on her door made her jump, but she ran to the entryway and peered through. "Hey Jess," she greeted, after undoing the series of chains and locks that kept her 'safe' from the city. Her editor strode in and turned, grinning at her. "Wow, looking good there Chief. Keep that up and you'll be beating ladies off with a stick."

"Yeah, with my luck," he replied sardonically. "And you Miss California look like you're ready to stop traffic. The question is, are you ready to _go_?"

"Hold on there, just gotta touch up my lipstick and grab my purse and we'll be off okay?" She waited until he nodded – grudgingly – and darted through the tiny, disheveled loft that she resided in. She _could_ have had one of the nicest apartments in Metropolis, thanks to the funds left by the Watcher's Council, but she wanted to make it under her own steam. So she had done what any good Metropolitan girl would do to find a home – she watched the obituaries and made lots of calls.

Jesse was peering at one of the many photo collages on the wall as she returned. Even her closest friends rarely heard about Dawn's background – other than her penchant for large tubs of ice cream and horrible taste in movies, all anyone ever seemed to know was that she had traveled the world with her sister after their mother died in California. Thus, they had a tendency to be fascinated by the pictures in her home. The 'scoobies' were everywhere and she had several old family photos framed expensively around the room. "That your sister?" Jesse pointed to a picture of her in the embrace of a blonde girl.

Dawn peered over his shoulder and shook her head. "That's Tara," she answered. "A friend of Buffy's. She died."

He fell awkwardly silent and followed her out of the loft. He had noticed in the year or so they'd been friends that many of her stories ended with 'and then she (or he) died'. Though hers was not the most tragic background he'd come across in his years at the paper, it still gave him pause when she mentioned it so casually.

"Come on," she smiled suddenly. "Let's get a move on."

* * *

Dawn sipped her champagne slowly as she glanced around the room. It was almost too much to take in, the crème de la crème of Metropolitan society was there, so many names and faces she'd only seen on television or read about in newspapers. She'd _written_ about some of these people – but now she was surrounded by them. She giggled a bit.

"Is the champagne to your liking?" A smooth voice from behind the table startled her and she turned quickly. Her eyes widened and she blushed deeply.

"Mr. Luthor! Oh, yes," she fumbled for words. "The entire evening has been wonderful."

"I'm glad," he smiled and she let out a nervous giggle. "It is always my goal to make sure my guests have the best possible experience." He paused for a moment. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Miss..."

"Summers," she replied, holding out her hand. "I'm Dawn Summers, I'm a student journalist with the MetroPulse."

"Oh yes, of course forgive me." He took her hand and kissed the back, causing her to giggle and blush again. "I am disappointed in myself, I usually make it my business to know the faces of all the best reporters in the city."

She shook her head quickly. "Oh, of course – oh! I mean – no, I'm really just learning."

"Not at all, I've read some of your articles Miss Summers, opinion pieces they may be, but quality work is easily recognized even when found away from the front page. Your research is remarkable, and I've seen your name added to many more important Pulse bylines"

Dawn beamed. "I never thought people noticed that," she admitted. "Don't take me wrong, I am definitely just a beginner when it comes to real journalism, but I have honed my researching skills."

"I can see that. I must say I was excited to realize that there was a survivor of the Sunnydale disaster attending my gala this evening, I must say it has always fascinated me."

Her smile nearly fell, as her guard instantly went up. "Sunnydale? Well, I suppose interesting is a word for it," a nasty thought occurred to her. "I don't suppose your interest in that is the reason my name was on one of the tickets tonight?"

"Of course not Miss Summers," he looked shocked. "Your own talents managed that, though I admit my curiosity might have encouraged it."

"Oh, I see," she paused. "Well, I don't really know what I could tell you about it. I lived, that's about it."

"Indeed and I'm glad of it!" He was suddenly jovial again. "I apologize if I brought to mind painful memories. It cannot be pleasant to think of such things. Perhaps you would be interested in meeting some of your fellow journalists, while in attendance?"

"Oh, yes!" Dawn tried to ignore the way the hair on her neck was standing up. There was no reason to feel so cautious, Lex Luthor was one of the most respected men in the country, of course he would be fascinated by something like Sunnydale. It was hardly the first time she'd gotten such a reaction.

A little voice in the back of her mind pointed out that once, Mayor Wilkins had been the most respected man in Sunnydale, but she ignored that as well. She followed Mr. Luthor as he introduced her to the lead reporter for the Metropolis Star.

At the end of the evening she had met and mingled with some of the city's most influential residents, but couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding she'd had from her brief moments with the richest man in Metropolis. Perhaps it was this distraction that allowed a man in a black suit to sneak up and cover her mouth with a sweet-smelling white cloth, and catch her as the chloroform made the world swirl into black.


	3. Things That Would Be

_Things That Would Be_

When she opened her eyes, she began to think that the past day had been a dream. Perhaps she'd never been kidnapped or called an alien – because she was certainly back in her own apartment. She groaned, wishing strongly that whoever was hammering would stop. It sounded like they were right beside her head, and it was throbbing to begin with. Her pillow couldn't even block it out when pressed against her ears, so she stood and angrily stalked toward the 'door' – a curtain she had stretched over the walls to delineate where her living room ended and her bedroom began – and froze at her dresser. The banging had receded a bit, and she stared instead at the small metal box wrapped in a red bow. There was a small note attached that said only one word: 'Careful'.

Dawn was certainly no Pandora, but the pull was irresistible. She pulled aside the bow and opened the box – then reeled with the most intense and blinding pain she'd ever felt. She caught a glimpse of a vibrant green glow from the small gem in the box even as she slammed the lid shut and sat on the floor, gasping for breath. The hammering was louder again, and she whimpered slightly. Her voice echoed unnaturally and things began to make a sick, horrible sort of sense. The madman had held a rock like that against her and she'd not reacted...which meant that something essential had changed in her, something that made her a very different sort of person than she had thought to be before.

"But...I don't want to be Superman," she whispered to herself. She took a deep shuddering breath and clambered to her feet. She stumbled to her bed and held tight to a stuffed white bear she'd been given by her first college roommate. She closed her eyes and realized with a sudden jolt that the 'hammering' she'd been hearing since she woke was her heartbeat. Tears threatened, but deep breathing won out. She folded her legs beneath her with a sudden determination and tried to remember the meditation techniques that Willow had taught her, back in the days when she had aspired at witchcraft.

"The important thing," she said quietly, "is to direct my thoughts on something productive. Don't think about the things I can't change...focus on learning the truth."

She focused. She closed her eyes and paid attention to the things she could hear, trying to classify them. Birds were easy, but the pitch that some of them called in made her twitch. She tried to ignore them – and found she could tune them out by focusing on something else. She heard a real hammer, a jackhammer down in the street, but it wasn't nearby – it had to be several blocks off. She heard a car alarm going off, and someone yelling at whoever had just caused the alarm. She took another deep breath and tuned it all out, slowly bringing herself back into the room. She opened her eyes and began testing that sense.

First off, things looked...sharper somehow. Like she'd been seeing life on a fuzzy old black and white TV, and had suddenly bought a plasma screen with HD. She realized quickly that she did not clean her loft nearly often enough, because she could _see_ the dust accumulating everywhere. There was microscopic grime on the walls, and tracks in it indicating the movement of bugs. She stood up quickly – and realized that her quickly had become _inhumanly_ fast. She decided to pace a bit, keeping well away from Pandora's box.

"Well," she thought aloud. "Supes got a whole list of powers right? Psycho wannabe Doc said I'll share them. So..." she glanced at her laptop. "People in this town are all about Superman. There's gotta be some sort of index on a website somewhere, listing what he can do. And then I can just sorta go through and see how much overlaps and ya know...figure the odds. 'Cause so far it's just enhanced sight and vision, and lord knows Buffy can do that and I _know_ I'm made of her." She sat at her desk, anxiously tapping her fingers against the keyboard drawer as google searched for her, and winced when an audible crack accompanied a sudden finger-shaped dent in the wood-laminate.

It took a few clicks, but she found what she needed. There was an entire comprehensive database devoted to Superman, with many links to the Daily Planet homepage. It had options like 'recent activity', 'latest sighting' and so on...along with a submission page for anyone who had interacted with him to send in 'thank you's, which were occasionally posted on the main page. Dawn wondered irreverently if Superman checked his e-mail in the outfit, and how awkward it would have to be to sit at a desk with such a big cape.

She clicked the 'known powers' link and a list appeared – some including known limitations to said powers – and decided to start alphabetically. "Flying. Right," she stepped away and imagined willing herself into the air – since there didn't seem to be any particular posture or gestures required, from the videos she'd seen in the past. When that didn't work she dropped the 'imagining' part, and actually willed herself to lift from the ground.

Ten seconds later she had dropped _back_ to the ground and was trying her very best not to hyperventilate herself to death. Could she die from lack of oxygen? Superman seemed immune..._shit _was she immortal now? Oh lord, she didn't want to be immortal, she wanted to get old and die like everyone else she knew was going to do.

She calmed down after a few minutes of panicking and returned to the list. "I have no idea how he does the freezing breath thing," she grumbled aloud. "Just sorta...puffs up his cheeks." She tried holding her breath and then forcing it out slowly, but got no 'cold' response. She tried willing it, as she had the flight but once again, got nowhere. "Well, that's one good thing. Okay, heat vision." That was, after several attempts, a similar failure.

She decided that, while she was focusing her eyes she would try for the x-ray vision the Kryptonian hero was so famous for. Dawn looked around the room, examining her things...and decided to try the metal box. She wanted to see the green gem that they – whoever 'they' were – had sent her, but she had absolutely no intention of exposing herself to it again.

After a few futile moments of concentration she sighed and fell back on her bed, allowing her eyes to relax and drift toward the ceiling. When she realized that she was peering directly into the living room of her wannabe indie-rocker neighbor and his bitchy barista roommate. She almost lost it the moment she realized what she was doing, but after a moment she was able to put a bit more focus in it. She noticed that as she stared, her ears seemed to automatically tune into the conversation. Apparently, she noted with all the curiosity of a 'drama vampire', one of them was sleeping with someone the other didn't approve of. It was hard to tell which was which, but such was the life of the Metropolitan twenty-something.

It was frustrating, but she was getting somewhere with the analysis of the powers. They were ridiculous, but she had grown up in ridiculous – and hopefully it was only temporary. Her next move though...that was difficult. Maybe if...she even wasn't sure what the if was, let alone what would come after it.

Well, the first step at least was obvious, if not exactly easy. She needed to get in touch with Superman. The fastest way to do that was most likely to get in some sort of imminent danger, but she'd had quite enough imminent danger in her Scooby life. After all, Dawn was a reporter wasn't she? If there was a story to be found in researching, she could sniff it out.

She pursed her lips and grabbed a notebook. There had to be an angle for tracking him down that no one had thought of...she knew people had spent massive amounts of energy trying to figure out how he had made it to Earth, when there hadn't been any sort of reported UFO sightings to coincide with his arrival. Well...if there was one thing she had learned as a Scooby it was that if the present wasn't providing conclusive evidence – look to the past. There was _always_ a pattern to be found.

* * *

It took six weeks before she actually discovered the pattern. It hadn't taken nearly so long to realize that there were stories being written world-wide about superhuman feats, and that they dated back nearly a decade, but they were sporadic at best. There would be one in Brazil and then a week or two later there would be one in Siberia or Kenya. It made sense that no one else had ever put such things together – very few people spoke as many languages as Dawn did. It was the one talent she'd always thought might actually be supernatural. The thing she pieced together _after_ finding Superman's travels was that in nearly ever case there would be a human interest article in the local paper a few days later...written around the world by the exact same man.

The same man who now wrote regular pieces for the most famous Metropolis newspaper, whose partner was regularly showered with attention by the legendary superhero.

Dawn grinned to herself and grabbed her shoulder bag. She'd always wanted to see the inside of the Daily Planet.


	4. Fashioned of Horn

_Fashioned of Horn_

* * *

There were many things that a person really ought to have picked up after living in the city for a few months; among them things like which subway route got you from your apartment to your favorite deli the fastest, the amount you had to pay for an hour of Japanese-style karaoke with your friends, and that on any given day a disaster would occur, and require the assistance of Superman.

Dawn was standing in the back of the crosstown subway, attempting to read the latest edition of the Metropolis Star. Being a journalist herself she felt she should be unbiased, so she tried not to show preference between the city's two major papers, and regularly stole her neighbors' subscriptions to both. The Star however, was lacking in excitement this morning. It generally contained her favorite opinion piece, a rather fluffy weekly article that often ranted about the recent frustrations of the author; there were no such works this morning however, just a filler comic with a small note declaring that Jenny Faust was 'unable to report this week'.

Dawn set her paper down with a frown, glancing at the display over her head. The next stop was still several blocks from where she wanted to get off, but it _did_ house her favorite sushi bar. She debated for a few seconds getting off early and walking – after sushi, obviously – but decided against it. It was probably best that she arrive as soon as possible, it was getting late in the afternoon and she was already realizing that setting off without a plan or appointment – while very much in character – had not been her greatest idea ever. She'd spent the first half of her trip – aboard a bus – trying to figure out her exact method of approach, because 'Hi, I'm a mystical sorta half-clone of you!' didn't sound terrible appealing, nor likely to be believed.

She reached up and grabbed one of the hanging straps as the train began to slow down. She hated standing on the subway; she had trouble because she had almost no sense of balance, but one of the unfortunate side effect of being young and healthy was that one was expected to give up one's seat for those lacking her stamina. She thought she might be willing to trade her stamina for the ability to _not_ fall down on the train, but didn't voice the idea...there were entirely too many creatures who might be listening for such requests.

It felt like the train was running over rough gravel instead of smooth rails, but she tried to convince herself she was being paranoid. She had seen so much danger in her life that she still expected to find it lurking at every move, but the rest of the world was not like Sunnydale. "It's perfectly safe," she whispered to herself, and immediately regretted it.

The subway train slammed to a halt even as half a dozen men covered from head to toe in heavy black cloth appeared in the door between the cars. She shrank back behind a tall man in a dark suit, wondering idly why she had never learned that _despite _what she'd been taught in school, jinxing was not only real - it was a genuine threat to life.

"Everyone freeze," a modulated voice commanded, waving a rather large gun. Dawn couldn't remember what it was called, but she distinctly remembered Xander stealing one from the government once. Actually several times...it was surprising that they'd never caught onto him. She wondered about that actually – and was interrupted rather rudely by one of the guns appearing suddenly in front of her face. "I told you to get down," the voice intoned. She supposed it might be best to pay attention from here on, and stop wondering about Xander and the military.

"Superman will stop you!" Someone stated defiantly; she realized rather belatedly that it was her own voice so filled with confidence. She winced even as a deep chuckled emanated from the robes. "He'll hear us," she added, a bit more hesitantly.

"We worried about that once," one of the voices informed her snidely. "But I don't guess he can hear to the subways. You might say he can hear everywhere," he interrupted her before she could deny it. "But we've done this five times before and he ain't stopped us yet."

Dawn's eyes widened and she looked around the car at people who were quickly emptying their wallets. "Is this a _train heist_?" She almost felt like laughing, it was like a scene from an old west movie taking place in a subway under Metropolis.

"Bit more than that honey," the original member still had a gun pointed at her. "I vote we take this one. I think Momma would like her."

The man – or woman – on the far side shook his/her head. "No, remember what she said about the skinny girls, they make Miss Edith feel inadequate. We need somebody with meat on their bones."

"Well, whatever makes Momma happy."

The gun left her field of vision as they slowly left the car, a middle-aged and slightly heavy woman being dragged between them. It was that moment when she realized that for all her denials and insistence that leaning to control her powers was a scientific purpose only, in reality she knew that if she had the ability to help like Superman did, or even like Buffy had, she would never be able to stand aside. She smiled grimly as she allowed her hands to find the crack of the door behind her. She caught it and her fingers slid between the metal panels, slowly forcing them apart. A hissing can of gas was thrown into the cab and the far door slid shut with a bang; the people in the car seemed to be slowly falling, many on top of each other, as the air slowly colored pink.

She pulled at the door and with a slight creak it opened. She pulled her dark green sweater up over her mouth as she stepped into the tunnel; her eyes adjusted almost instantly to the darkness and she sought out the heavily clothed attackers.

Dawn thought about moving stealthily, but decided instead that it would be fun to test herself. Not that it was in fact a test...she allowed herself to float a few feet upwards and then shot toward them. After that it was more or less over – their weapons were fear and surprise, very little else. It only took a moment, though she made sure to knock them on the head a few times each, just in case they got the idea to mention who'd caught them; not that she thought any of them would be bragging that a little girl had bested them. Especially not where _they_ were headed.

She pulled off her sweater and ripped at it, pulling small tears in the knitted fabric and then stomping it in the dirt. She threw her head up and down a few times to ruffle her hair and then began running – just a little faster than a normal twenty-year-old might run – down the tunnel toward the station. She pouted a bit on the inside at her plan, but knew it was the best course of action. She wanted to take credit for her rescue, have someone – anyone! - whom she could trust, but the best option for the day was fall into the subway station crying about how Superman had saved them all.

She wondered what _he_ would think when he heard about his amazing bravery. She almost hoped that he was smarter than he looked, maybe he would save her a bit of trouble and track _her_ down.

She doubted it, but it was a pretty daydream.

* * *

The fabric store was nearly empty, but it was nearly closing time and Dawn had been there for hours. There were so many varieties of spandex and silk, she just couldn't quite decide. She'd already raided the scrap bucket, she had a vague sort of idea on what she wanted to do for a logo, but the colors were what bothered her. They had to go well with whatever she planned to call herself, and that was stumping her as well!

She wished she had a pet reporter she could hit on and wait for _him_ to name her. She supposed she might have tried it on Jesse, but he had never been the creative member of the team, he was more likely to tell her she was behind on a story than help with such a problem.

Dawn giggled at the thought and frowned again. She supposed it didn't hurt to buy a few varieties, she could always decide on the details later. There was only one thing for certain...she purposefully ignored the red and blue spandex. She was _not_ going to be Supergirl.


	5. Fashioned of Ivory

_Fashioned of Ivory_

She'd always known that her obsession with Halloween would pay off someday. Her mother had refused to buy her the expensive costumes she so dearly desired, so she had instead demanded that she be taught to make her own. From age seven on she'd made her own costumes, and Buffy's sometimes too, when she was asked nicely – though she'd always had her mother's help. There was something vaguely cathartic about taking the masses of silk, chiffon and spandex and forging them into various combinations. She was certain now that it would be dark, green mostly. Some dark purple maybe – and gold. Part of it had to be shiny, and gold was definitely shiny.

Not that she was going for the Wonder Woman look or anything, she was thinking a bit more classic. She paused, holding up a few yards of hunter green chiffon. 'Classic', she repeated in her head. Now there was a thought. She dropped the fabric and hopped to her feet, carefully picking across her living room to the bookshelf that dominated one wall. She pulled out a large hard-cover volume and thumbed through it until she came to her desired page. "Ma'at," she said aloud thoughtfully. "Goddess of truth, justice and order. Very Superman," she hid a grin. "I could be Superma'at."

She shook her head, but continued flipping through the book. "I like the idea, not the name," she muttered. Her eyes lit up and she slammed it shut. "Got it!" She hissed, hurrying back to the pile of scraps and half-costumes, and digging until she found a black sleeveless leotard. From there it was short work, especially with her recently discovered super speed – though she found her non-super sewing machine rather limiting, the last thing she wanted was for the seams to come undone at an inopportune moment.

Within a few hours she was standing in front of her mirror, perfecting her look. The basic suit was dark green chiffon layered over the black leotard, draped in Grecian tradition through gold clasps at the shoulder and ending just above the knee. It was cinched at the waist by a wide leather belt that was embroidered with a pair of balances and flanked by symmetrical hieroglyphics. She admitted to herself that yes, she was enough of a nerd to have looked up and embroidered the characters for Ma'at on her superhero outfit. She cinched dark gold bangles on her arms at the wrist and bicep; from there hung a gold silk cape, attached to the small rings at the shoulder as well. Very dramatic when she stood with her arms stretched out, if she did say so herself. She pulled on a pair of gold sandals she'd bought for a Cleopatra costume her freshman year and then added the accessories. Her hair was braided up, and a thin gold band rested atop it. A single ostrich plume emerged jauntily from the bun and the absolute final touch was a thin strip of hunter green chiffon, which she tied across her eyes. It wasn't the most comfortable thing she could possibly imagine wearing, but it hid her face reasonably well and went _fabulously_ with her theme.

She double checked herself, as if to make absolutely sure that no one would look at her and see Dawn Summers...and then moved to her window. No one was particularly watching, so she felt free to step out on the ledge. She hadn't allowed herself to fly outside before – fear of discovery, fear of retribution from Superman, fear of falling to her death...all had kept her indoors but now she was more than Buffy's Kid Sister, she had her own position in the world and the power to fulfill her dreams.

Dawn jumped.

There was a rush of adrenaline as she wondered if she had been crazy all along, if she might not fall to her death – but she caught the wind, and swooped up toward the sky. She thought that if she could catch her breath she would become hysterical - so she didn't let herself. Instead, she experimented; she swooped left, then right, she climbed until she felt the clouds and then fell until she was in the city again. She wanted people to notice, she wanted to show herself and declare to everyone that she was here to help. It probably wasn't the best idea, but she'd spent so many years hiding her identity from the world it just seemed amazing that she could, maybe, show part of it.

There were always people in need of help in Metropolis, hadn't she thought that only yesterday? So why was she flying around like a moron then? Because unlike Superman, she didn't have the ability to filter her hearing to the point of pinpointing danger from a mile away. Or at least, she hadn't developed the control it took...either way, she was simply floating over the city now, scanning eagerly for some sort of trouble she could assist with.

Ah! She dropped like a stone for a few hundred feet and then landed none-too-gracefully but not quite violently on her feet. The two people who had been fighting over a large red leather purse were staring blankly at her. The man dropped the bag and stepped back, looking around nervously.

"I'm uh...damn I'm not gonna ask," he muttered quickly before turning and running.

Dawn smiled at the young woman who was clutching her handbag tightly, still shaking with terror. "It's okay! I think I scared him off."

"I...you!" Her voice trembled. "I'm..."

Dawn shook her head. "It's okay, I was just helping. No thanks or whatever needed. Just you know, spread the word that I'm here, okay?" She grinned and then leaped back into the sky, turning almost immediately to a car wreck that was about to happen half a dozen blocks away. She was still beaming as she pulled the small Japanese sports car out of the intersection, and an hour later she was giggling madly as she helped guide a heavy steel beam into place for a broken crane.

* * *

Across town a reporter for the Daily Planet was frowning at the office TV. LNN was already covering it; it was unbelievable that there was someone else like Superman in Metropolis. His partner started to ask if he would help her investigate – but when she turned around, he was gone. Lois Lane folded her arms and glared at the spot that Clark Kent had occupied only moments earlier.

"How does he do that?" She asked no one in particular.

"Beautifully," the gossip columnist purred in response.

Lois ignored her, stomping instead to her desk and grabbing her PDA. If Clark was going to run after the story without her, she'd just have to go to and beat him to it. She glanced back at the TV and stopped, arms akimbo. "Jimmy!"

He jumped and looked a bit guilty. "Hey, look at her! She's...amazing!"

Lois scowled. "She's probably some evil clone of Superman. She'll _probably_ try to kill everyone."

"How 'bout you stop with the probablys and get me some definitelys?" The editor-in-chief was standing in the door of his office. "Now your partner's already gone, so why are you still standin' here?"

Lips pursed, Lois waggled her PDA. "I will have the story," she said firmly. "_Clark_ will be left behind."

"Now Lois -" he didn't bother to finish, she was already stalking toward the elevator with the air of an injured duchess. She didn't even see when suddenly the green and gold figure atop a skeletal skyscraper was joined by a red and blue one.

* * *

Dawn was humming to herself as she helped lift yet another steel girder. It was too much fun, especially seeing the frantic but grateful way people responded to her. She had generally received one of two responses from her interactions – condescension or utter disinterest. Sure she'd had friends who didn't treat her like a kid sister, but in the general population that was the reaction. She settled it into place with a frown. She wondered suddenly if she exuded little-sister-ism, and maybe that was why everyone treated her that way? She hoped not. She'd have to be really, _really _annoying to deserve what she got.

"Need help?" A smooth voice interrupted her thoughts, and she nearly dropped the beam. Some of the weight was lifted from her arms as Superman jumped to assist, looking guilty.

"Well," she tittered nervously. "Apparently I do." Once they had it in place she looked around and sat herself down on it.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he apologized.

"Sure you did," Dawn grinned. "It's okay, I get it. I'm," she broke off and looked at the crane operator. He was listening entirely too avidly. "Being eavesdropped on. Mind floating a bit up, out of hearing range?"

Superman folded his arms, but followed as she glided toward the clouds.


	6. Spin the Thread

AN: There seems to be a bit of confusion about this, so I'll make sure it's clear – this is set in Lois and Clark-verse, late season one...but jumped up fourteen years so that it takes place in 2008 instead of 1994 (putting Clark's birth in 1979, two years older than Buffy, seven years older than Dawn, etc). Thus why Luthor is still around being smarmy, and yet they have cellphones.

* * *

_Spin the Thread_

He watched her as she told her tale; he wanted to interrupt several times but restrained himself. She seemed desperate to share and he couldn't say that he blamed her. He was sure he would be equally enthusiastic about telling his story, if the chance ever arose.

The story was difficult to believe but her expression held no guile. She looked...sad, and lonely. Even though his life had not been remotely as interesting as hers had been, he could understand how it felt to want someone to share with. He thought it was rather hypocritical to doubt that she had interacted with vampires when he himself was an alien with superhuman abilities, so he forced himself to accept it for the time being.

"So I graduated from high school in Scotland, decided to move back to the states for college," she finished. "Since then I've been a normal student at MU, until someone kidnapped me and radiation-poisoned me into a superhero."

"Forgive me Miss..." he tilted his head in confusion. "In all that I don't think I got your name."

"Oh, I haven't exactly decided on a superhero name yet," she shrugged. "But _my_ name is Dawn. Summers."

"Well, uh, Miss Summers, I'm doing my best to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you have to understand..."

"Hey, it's okay," she shrugged. "I mean, I didn't believe it the first time I read Buffy's diary, why should you? Other than the whole 'superhuman alien dude' thing."

"Ah, that's why I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt," he paused and met her eyes deliberately. "We need to talk about what you're going to do with your powers. There's a big responsibility associated with these sort of abilities -"

"Save the speeching Kent," Dawn rolled her eyes. "You don't have to get all high and mighty, I know the deal I want to help people too and why do you look like that?" He had gone absolutely rigid and was staring at her with horror in his eyes. She thought back over her words and floated down a few feet. "Oh. Right. The name thing."

"How do you know that?" He eyed her suspiciously. "I don't exactly broadcast it."

"No, but you're not exactly subtle either. I actually kinda backed into accidentally, I was trying to pinpoint the day super-you arrived on Earth by tracking stories of superhuman feats around the world right? I found a few crazy rumors but nothing concrete...until I realized that all the crazy rumors coincided with an editorial in a local paper by the reporter-you. Not such a leap from there to here, you know?"

He folded his arms and stared at her angrily. "And you're going to do what with this knowledge? Br the first to get a Pulitzer from an article in a university paper?"

Her eyebrows rushed together and she automatically mimicked his posture. "Well I could do that, or I could just act like a pompous ass and start talking down to everyone else in the world. Oh no! Then what would _you_ do with your spare time?"

He narrowed his eyes. "If this is you trying to gain my trust I'd hate to see you acting like a spoiled brat and trying to make me mad."

"Oh, am I making you angry? Will I not like you when you're angry? I'm so-oo sorry." She twirled one of the loose curls about her face while adopting a saccharine smile. "You'll just have to forgive me, you know us award-hungry reporters, we get bitter when people call us unscrupulous cutthroats, even in roundabout ways."

He let out an angry breath. "You're being – I don't know!"

"Tempestuous? Heinous bitch?" She shrugged. "Please, like there's a name out there I haven't been called – most often by my sister. I'm not trying to piss you off Clark – I'm assuming here that I can call you Clark – and I'm not trying to insert myself into your life. I just figured I would...help. Like you do."

He softened. "I'm sorry...Dawn," he hesitated over her name. "But you have to understand that there aren't many people who know these things about me. Beyond the fact that my life would be ruined...my parents, my friends would be at risk if people knew."

She let out a short laugh. "God do I know how that works. Do you have any idea what it's like being the little sister of the _Slayer_? I got kidnapped every other week! And that was when it was just demons. I can't imagine if there had been actual _criminals_ involved."

"I can," Clark replied, jaw tense. "It's not pretty. You have to be...careful with this knowledge."

"If you say with great power comes great responsibility I will seriously vomit on some poor unsuspecting citizen," Dawn scowled. "I'm not a kid Clark. I've been fighting evil longer than you have, just not quite so pro-actively. I know what side I'm on, and I know how to work for it. I'm gonna stop little-sistering you now, if you'll stop daddying me."

He paused thoughtfully. "Well, quite literally, if you're made of my genes then you _are_ my daughter."

Dawn went rigid. "Nuh-uh mister. I have gone through enough real and surrogate parents in my life, I have Willow and Giles now – they are as close to parental as I need these days." She forced herself to relax and she tried to smile a little at him. "It's like with Buffy...but for me and her, it makes us sisters."

He looked up, staring through the clouds to the dazzling sun. "Then maybe," he began, not looking at her. "Maybe there could be room for a brother?"

One eyebrow rushed down as the other quirked up. "Why on Earth would you want to be part of my family?" She demanded. "We've just spent ten minutes fighting and we've only known each other for eleven!"

"Unless sitcoms have been lying to me all these years, that makes up a perfect match for family," he replied wryly.

Dawn stopped, then started laughing. "If the way Buffy and I act is any example I guess you're right. We do fight and bicker over stupid stuff all the time." She licked her lips nervously and held out a hand. "Okay then. Siblings?"

"Siblings." He shook her hand and gave in to the odd instinct that demanded he pull her into a hug. There was something cathartic knowing that he could hold her as tightly as he wanted without hurting her – something he'd never been able to do before.

"Clark?" Her voice was muffled. "I know you can't really hurt me or anything – but this is really uncomfortable for me right now. Brotherly hugs don't involve my face in your huge pecs."

He blushed as he released her. "Sisterly hugs don't involve you noticing!" He shot back.

"Oh please, let's shove your face in MY boobs and see you being all not-freaked by it."

"Sorry to say this, but apparently the huge chest is something of my own and not part of the Kryptonian package - because you definitely didn't receive it."

Her jaw dropped and she reached out to slap him, but he took off with a sonic boom out of sight. She pursed her lips and took off after him, yelling "that's mean!" at the top of her lungs even while knowing that they were traveling well above the speed of sound.

She thought idly as she tried to catch up that she had many questions to ask if and when she caught him...first of all, where the hell did he keep his clothes when he was in the suit?


	7. Gifts of the gods

_Gifts of the gods_

* * *

It reminded her of home. Oh, the newsroom at the MetroPulse often had students running in and out and shouting ideas at one another – but half the time they were discussing the exact way to spin the latest pathetic loss for the MU basketball team into a story that didn't make the athletes look like incompetent morons. The people here were discussing real news, things that mattered – and they were as excited and rushed as everyone who lived at 'Slayer Central' always had been. It was empowering, she felt like she should be frantically pouring over her laptop or an ancient text and taking the sort of notes that made even Willow tell her she was being too much of a nerd.

She hugged her messenger bag close to her chest and made her way through the excited crowd. Snippets of conversation managed to infiltrate her carefully strengthened auditory filter. She considered it a mark of pride that she'd figured it out on her own – figuring things out on her own were a bit of an obsession these days. She wondered, as she wove her way toward the man at the far corner, if perhaps her stubborn refusal to share the developments with Buffy had been a bad idea. It was just...she knew if she called them then her life would become their territory again. They would swarm in and shower her with mystical tests and probably force her to either return with them or allow one – or many! - of them to stay with her in her loft. She _liked_ her privacy and having quiet and solitude. She _liked _working hard for what she had and seeing the results in her life, and this was just another obstacle in her goal of self-sufficiency.

Dawn realized after a moment that she didn't see Clark, and felt her heart sink a little. A fan of research and planning she may be, but calling ahead to make people knew she was coming always seemed to slip her mind. She frowned and folded her arms as she craned her neck, looking around.

"Can I help you?" A young man who looked about her age was smiling disarmingly at her.

Dawn chewed her lower lip slightly. "Well, I kinda need to talk to Clark Kent," she replied hesitantly. "I was hoping he'd be here."

"Oh CK? He's...well he was here," he frowned and looked past Dawn's shoulder. "Oh, hey, hey Lois! Where'd CK go?"

Dawn whirled around and felt her jaw drop. Lois Lane was standing not far behind her, frowning absently at the afternoon paper as she sipped her coffee. "He said he wanted to get a bagel or something," Lois replied, brow furrowed as she read. "Which knowing him means he'll be gone an hour."

"Well, do you think he's gonna be back soon? He's got someone waiting on him," at that she looked up and focused her attention on the visitor.

"You're here to see Clark?" There was a note in her voice that was just a shade too interested. "Well I'm sure I can help. Jimmy should have told you; I'm his partner, Lois Lane," she introduce herself with a voice full of artificial sweetener.

"Nice to meet you," Dawn swallowed hard. "I'm Dawn Summers," her voice cracked slightly. "Sorry, I um, I'm repressing the fangirly squeals right now, because you're like, my idol. I'm a student at MU, I work on the MetroPulse. This is kind of amazing for me."

Lois tossed her hair and smiled. "Well it's always nice to meet a fan," she folded her arms and leaned back. "Now what can I do for you?"

"It's actually just a personal thing," Dawn admitted, chewing her lip. "I didn't tell him I was coming or anything, but we talked about having lunch so being impulsive as I am, I kinda showed up when I realized I was in the area."

A single eyebrow arched dramatically. "You have a personal lunch date with Clark?" Lois asked, not quite managing to hide her displeasure this time. "I wasn't aware Clark was donating time to the Boys and Girls club."

Dawn smiled. She was reminded suddenly of Cordelia – and she knew exactly how to respond to _that. _The memories of Queen C the babysitter might not be real, but it didn't mean she didn't retain the knowledge she'd gained. _"_No, I'm a student at MU. There's just...stuff we have to talk about. I'm guessing if he wanted you to know, you would. As it is, I'm gonna go wait at his desk."

"Excuse me?" Lois looked much more offended than Dawn felt was warranted, given her mild response. "I know everything interesting about Clark Kent."

Dawn couldn't resist the small giggle that escaped her. She fought herself back to a straight face and nodded. "Of course, I'm sorry Ms. Lane, I um," she almost giggled again – but her laughter died in her throat. She stared at the headline on Lois's desk. "What is _that_?" She demanded, voice strangled.

Jimmy grinned and pointed to the photo of the newest Metropolitan superheroine. "I took that," he said proudly. "Isn't she amazing?"

"Um yeah amazing, I mean what's with the _name_?" Dawn pointed to the article. "Who decided she was going to be _Justi-girl_?"

"Well she did, sort of," Jimmy was almost giggling with pride. "See someone asked her who she was and she said she was -"

"Just a girl," Dawn filled in woefully.

"Exactly! So it's like a pun right? 'Cause she's got these hieroglyphics on her belt and they mean justice. So she's Justi-girl!"

Dawn's head drooped and she seriously debated crying. All that effort – and she was still given a ridiculous title! "I don't think she's gonna like it," she pouted. "She probably wants a more grown up and serious name. Clearly she put a lot of work into that costume I mean – Justi-girl sounds so..."

"Clever!" Clark's voice interrupted her pity-party and she fought the desire to glare at him. It wasn't his fault after all, that the newspaper was stupid. Unless it actually was, and he'd thought up the name after all, in which case she would have to kill him.

"Oh good, you're here," Lois folded her arms. "You're late for your unscheduled lunch date."

Clark gave her a questioning glance. "Lois, if it's unscheduled, how can I be late?" He shook his head and reached over to give Dawn an awkward one-armed hug. "I thought we'd be doing this later in the week," he explained quietly.

"I was in the neighborhood," her tone was sulky and her expression bore an almost-pout. Her eyes went back again to the headline hailing the arrival of Justi-girl. "I might have to go...get a new watch battery though. Rain-check?"

Clark nodded with a quirky smile. "Sure. Just call first so I know to be here. We do need to talk," he added seriously.

"Yeah I know," Dawn started backing toward the stairs. "But I get really freaked out if I don't know what time it is. I'll call you!" She turned and almost ran for the exit.

Lois was watching him suspiciously when he looked back, and he congratulated himself on not jumping guiltily. "Couldn't she just check the time on her cellphone?" She wondered, frowning at her partner. "She's as weird as you are."

Clark nodded after a moment. "I guess it runs in the family."

* * *

Dawn had decided that the best way to get her message out – without showing the obvious favoritism she wanted to give to the MetroPulse – was to wait for some sort of semi-catastrophe on the Metropolis University campus. It didn't take long, the students were notoriously bad drivers and she was able to swoop in and assist.

She was lucky when the reporter who arrived first was one of the new columnists – they wouldn't have known her long enough to recognize her. She also realized that she would have to give herself a name and state it explicitly, if she didn't want Justi-girl to stick.

She grabbed the freshman's arm and pushed him toward a bench. "I'm gonna give you that Big Break everyone's always waiting for," she grinned. "Want an interview with the new hero in town?"

The boy was frantically fumbling with his bag but nodded. "Of course, I just have to...get my recorder," he mumbled a bit. A moment later a miniature MP3 recorder was shoved in her face with an anxious smile. "First um...could you introduce yourself?"

"Sure!" She beamed. "Well, this was way harder than you would have expected, but I guess I'll call myself Áine. That's Á-I-N-E with an acute A."

"And the origin of the name?" He asked, getting bolder.

"Áine was an old Irish goddess and I have kind of a deity theme going on. Wiki it if you want the details. What else would you like to know?"

"Well, um," he fumbled for a moment. "Are you from Krypton, like Superman?"

"Nope, California. It's a really long story, and a lot of it is classified, but we'll just go with saying I'm a relative of his." Dawn shrugged her shoulders. "I'm here to do the same thing though, fight for truth and justice, all that jazz. I'm gonna try and make it a bit easier for Supes to have downtime too, I know how hard it is to try and save the world by yourself."

"Why is that? Were you saving it in California?"

"A bit less actively, but sure. I've been helping save the world since I was fifteen. It was a lot harder to do before I could fly."

"How long have you had your powers?"

Dawn sighed slightly and began to give the most edited summary of the past six weeks that she could manage. It was almost ten minutes before she could convince the kid to let her leave – she could have flown away, sure, but that would be just plain rude.

She had plans for the night though, and she wanted to get to it.

* * *

When Clark arrived at his apartment later, he was rather shocked to find his new 'sister' standing in his kitchen scooping green _something_ into a bowl.

She jumped when he slammed the door, and spun around guiltily. "Oh, hi! I um, let myself in."

"_How_?" Clark demanded, setting his briefcase on the couch and stalking over to the table. "The door was locked!"

"Yeah, but the window wasn't," she said this as if it was the most obvious answer in the world – and her tone showed exactly how stupid she thought he must be, to not have mentioned it. "Hello, flying superhuman here."

Clark frowned and looked toward the ever-billowing curtains at his window and resolved to fix the catch, it might make things inconvenient but he didn't like the idea of someone being able to sneak into his home like that. Even if the someone was another superhero.

Dawn held out the heaping serving of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream with a wide grin on her face. "I know that if we are in fact related then you must love this," she shoved the bowl at Clark and claimed another from inside the freezer. She calmly directed him to his sofa and curled up, Indian-style, on one end. "Now I totally get that you don't totally one hundred percent trust me yet, so I figure the best way to do that is to bond. We have twenty-one years to make up, and we gotta do it stat," she gestured at the opposite end of the couch with a firm look on her face. "I know you have nothing to do so sit that spandex-covered hiney down here Mister and we'll start the get-to-know-each-other-ing."

"Othering is not a word," Clark muttered, taking a seat at the opposite end and giving his green ice cream a suspicious look. "Are you sure this doesn't have kryptonite in it?"

Dawn stuck her tongue out at him and shoved a heaping spoonful in her mouth. "It's mint," she mumbled around the spoon. It was removed and she clarified. "Mint-chocolate-chip, it's the best in the world. For real, if it's got kryptonite in it I give you permission to like, good-boy lecture me to death or whatever it is you do to your enemies."

"I fight!" Clark looked terribly offended. "I can beat those guys to bloody pulps!"

Dawn patted his leg comfortingly. "I'm sure you can sweetie."

He really didn't know how to handle this perky, overly-talkative girl that had commandeered his apartment. If he could accept her identity, which he really wasn't sure he wanted to do, he still couldn't quite figure out how to react to such frank conversation about his powers – with someone who was not his parents at least. She actually reminded him somewhat of Lois, if Lois were to severely overdose on caffeine and pop culture.

Dawn kicked his leg none-too-gently. "Stop brooding Mister. So, bonding. Obviously you don't trust me - as well you shouldn't, in your position - so we'll start with me. Anything you want to know, ask away."

He didn't say anything for several moments, instead studying her expression closely. Something in her manner, which could never been called anything but open, convinced him of her intent. "What are your parents like?" He asked, finally.

Dawn's face fell and she let out a soft sigh. "Well, Hank is an ass. He basically took the first opportunity to jet. He…couldn't handle Buffy getting into trouble and he never loved me at all. Buffy was his princess and I was just…sort of extra. Mom though…well okay, she wasn't the best mother in the entire world, she made a lot of mistakes, and most of them with Buffy. She really really loved us though, we were everything to her. She kind of took over as mom for Buffy's friends too. She um, she got cancer when I was fourteen. I think the worst moment of my entire life was when Buffy told me she was gone."

Clark's heart went out to her and he set aside his ice cream to reach for her. He wasn't really sure what to do, but she shook her head and pulled back so he let it go. "She had a brain tumor, but they got it all out. She was…she was supposed to be fine. Nothing has ever hurt like seeing her, cold and empty," her voice broke and she looked away, trying to hide the tears sliding down her cheeks. She took a few deep breaths and continued. "She knew what I was, that I wasn't really hers. But she loved me anyway, said I was her daughter no matter what."

"She sounds like a great mother," Clark said softly, and this time she let him pull her closer. "I'm sure she did love you. Just the way mine loves me. Blood doesn't matter to them, it's all in the heart."

Dawn sniffled a little and nodded, enjoying for a moment the feel of having strong arms around her. It had been a long time since she'd felt safe like that, probably since the last time Spike had hugged her. She sat up and grabbed her bowl again, resuming her story. "It kind of sucks that we can't even visit her grave anymore...not since Sunnydale was swallowed. Let me tell you, that was a trip and a half getting out of there."

"I heard about that! I tried to make it in time to help but it was sort of sudden," Clark gaped at her. "You were there?"

"Oh yeah, didn't I tell you? That was part of Buffy and them closing the hellmouth. Very dramatic, fight to the death, run for your damn fool lives sorta thing. Your turn – same question."

Clark hesitated. "Well, you know who they are."

"Obviously."

"They found me in a space ship," he said slowly at first. "They couldn't have kids so they took me in. Until you, they were the only ones who ever knew about me. They are really amazing people, hard working, good-hearted, incredibly loyal. The best parents you could want. I don't really know anything about my biological parents, other than them being Kryptonian and sending me here when the planet was destroyed."

Dawn shrugged. "Like you said, blood is irrelevant in that stuff. If you have blood family it's awesome, if you don't, find people to be heart family." She kicked his leg. "Eat the ice cream, it's gonna melt!"

He looked down and realized it was quickly becoming rather mushy. He thought for a moment and blew a bit of frozen air toward the bowl, watching it solidify again. She glared at him in response, so he cautiously took a small bit.

Dawn grinned as he began shoveling the stuff down his throat. "Hey super speed, it's really better if you actually _taste_ it."

"It's delicious!" He announced between spoonfuls. "I love it."

"It's a Summers thing," Dawn replied confidently. "Buffy, Mom and I used to eat it all the time, usually with girly movies."

Clark smiled slightly, setting it aside. "Now it's a Kent thing too I suppose."

Dawn beamed. "Next question!"

* * *

AN: Áine is pronounced like Anya. So you can imagine why she chose it.


	8. Generation of Leaves

I know this is short...but I've been really blocked on this story lately and I just wanted to post a bit of something! Enjoy!

_Generation of Leaves_

* * *

Dawn scowled at the paper from Clark's couch. "'Justi-Girl, who says that her first name is _Anya_, allowed herself to be interviewed by a MetroPulse reporter yesterday,'" she read aloud. "Seriously Clark, what the hell? Are they just stupid?"

"You're the one who didn't claim a name until after Jimmy gave you one," Clark replied mildly over his cup of coffee. "You should just accept it. Áine is too difficult, and since the other major city papers picked up Justi-Girl after the Planet's article, your image is associated the name."

"But it's just so _lame_."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Do you think 'Superman' is the height of class and substance? Hero names are not known for their panache Dawn."

The younger girl just folded her arms and sulked. "It's still annoying."

"So wait six months, get a new costume and reinvent yourself. Make up a story of triumph that means you feel like Justi-Girl is behind you."

Dawn tilted her head. "You think that would work?"

"Well it always seems to work for the X-Men," Clark shrugged.

There was a thoughtful pause. "Speaking of comic-book types," she began.

"I don't know if any of the other people you read about in papers are real, I don't go looking for them and they don't come to Metropolis."

"But don't you ever go to Gotham? I mean, it's like two seconds for you. Me...us, whatever. I'm saying it doesn't take a whole lotta effort. Don't you wanna know who guy is?"

"Don't really care," Clark shrugged. He took a bite from a bagel and washed it down with a swig of coffee. "He's doing good for the world Dawn, why should I interfere? Would you like it if he showed up demanding to know the identity of Justi-Girl?"

"I'd just say her real name is Anya and she likes pina colatas and getting caught in the rain," Dawn scowled again. "Seriously, it says that. I made NO reference to that song – I don't even _like_ that song. And I hate coconut!"

"Your life is a never-ending tragedy Dawnie," he grinned at her, which made her frown harder. "Okay, stop pouting. It's time for us to head out anyway."

"Us? Pfft, _you_ is more like. I don't have class for over an hour."

"And you're not hanging out in my apartment leeching off my neighbor's wireless anymore. Just because you flirted the poor kid into sharing his network key doesn't give you the right to use all his bandwidth downloading obnoxious pop music."

"But...I'm poor," Dawn whined. "Internet is expensive – and this is way more reliable than leeching off _my_ neighbors. This guy at least has a dedicated line. And it's not like he's _here_ mourning the loss...okay okay!" She crumbled under the stern glare of her 'brother'. "I'll come with you and...walk to school. Lame."

"Like I said, it's a tragedy."

They stopped short just outside his door, where a guilty-looking Lois Lane was poised to listen. Clark quirked an eyebrow and Dawn folded her arms.

"Hey there...partner of mine..." Lois laughed nervously. "I was in the neighborhood and thought we might...walk to work together!" She said the last just a hair too quickly.

Dawn grinned widely. "Tell you what, I'll let you two go on to work and I'll catch the subway to school." She leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to Clark's cheek before darting down the hallway.

Lois watched her with a vague air of puzzlement. "Is she always like that?"

"More or less," Clark smiled fondly. "I feel like I've known her my whole life." He paused and frowned slightly, unpleasant thoughts invading his mind. He shook his head. "She's a great kid."

"And she's your sister," Lois folded her arms as they began to slowly walk down the street. "You still haven't explained it. Mystical sibling comes out of nowhere? And don't go saying it's just that I never ask about your family, I've been to Smallville, there were no pictures of a little sister and pictures of you were _everywhere._ So what is it?"

"Well," he hesitated before launching into the story they'd developed. "The truth is, I was adopted. I don't like to talk about it, Mom and Dad don't like to talk about it...it was painful for them. Dawn found me because she was doing a research paper on closed adoptions and 'how closed are they really', because her mom had given up a baby before she got married and Dawn wanted to find it. Turned out she did, it was me."

"Wow," Lois looked a bit guilty. "I didn't realize your family was so complicated."

"It's not really such a big deal though, because they're still my parents. Dawn's mother, Joyce, passed away a couple years ago and her dad is pretty much out of their lives...so she wanted some family. She still has her sister, but I think things are a bit awkward for them sometimes."

"Then it's good!" She proclaimed. "You have Dawn, Dawn has you, you get someone to coddle and nag, she has someone to leech off of and irritate, it'll be just Lucy and me. Hey, I bet she'd get along with Luce!"

"No offense Lois...but I think Dawn's a bit too grounded for Lucy," Clark grinned. "As fantastic as the Lane and Kent team is, I think it's destined to be the only one."

"I'm going to assume you didn't insult my sister, because otherwise I might have to throw you in the bay. First rule of big-sibling-hood Clark – the only person who can insult your little sister is _you_."


End file.
